


Fireside Chats

by Shocotate



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Arson, Canon Compliant, Gen, Libraries, Missing Scene, Sibling Bonding, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 22:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shocotate/pseuds/Shocotate
Summary: “Please stay. I’d like some company.” His sister’s hushed voice carried over the crackling, her head inclined only slightly as she regarded Pride with her steely gaze. It held no show of fear or uncertainty, not that he’d expected otherwise.Pride finds Lust at the First Branch of the library, her bringing news of their precious Sacrifices, Dr. Marcoh and some only necessary destruction.





	Fireside Chats

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Tumblr for the prompt: "Please stay. I'd like some company." Thanks for 64k for asking it! I hope you like it :)

_Drip, drip._

In the not quite deserted library, shards of elegantly sliced oil lamps dribbled their contents down the wood. Pride’s countless eyes peered down like stars over the First Branch and its flickering boughs, upon the sole, shadowy speck gliding amidst the sprawling bookcases.

Some slivers of him trailed in her shadow, nestling as he had in so many humans, completely oblivious until it was too late.

Lust was no human, naturally, despite the grey human coat she chose to cloak herself in.

“Please stay. I’d like some company.” His sister’s hushed voice carried over the crackling, her head inclined only slightly as she regarded Pride with her steely gaze. It held no show of fear or uncertainty, not that he’d expected otherwise.

 _Company._ Not _help._

With her clacking heels echoing along, Pride slithered further down the wall, painting it with the inky abyss of his insides. His more noticeable _,_ flawless eyes opened all at once in greeting, only three or four, wide, shimmering and almost as large as Lust herself. The nascent firelight wavered across them, reflecting a warmth that didn’t yet reach him.

 **“ _Oh_?” ** A soft tease of a purr, his eyes narrowed. **“I thought Gluttony and Envy served well as your companions.”** At the dormant source of his shade, his container mustered a dry, drowsy smirk, and the toying oozed out the gaps between his endless teeth. With Envy still in Liore, he hoped Gluttony was behaving himself wherever Lust had left him.

“As well as Wrath serves as yours, I’m sure.” She drawled with a quiet smirk of her own.

The eldest laughed, short and soft and everywhere, devoid his usual cruelty. Perhaps his container chirped a little titter, too, snuggled in the quilt of his false home, but he could not be sure.

Ah, the burden of ‘babysitting’. It was something only _they_ knew, and only in each other’s company could they allow the excess of this playful disparaging. The words would evaporate in the air and never be mentioned again. He thought of Wrath, and the miserable scrambling his underlings would fall into once they discovered the scorched husk of a library in the morning. If whatever documents the Military often stored here were so important then they should have left them at Headquarters. Foolish creatures. Besides, far better his little brother be kept busy between now and his upcoming inspection.

“Oh, where are my manners? Good evening, brother dear.”

**“Good evening, Lust. What brings you here, skulking around in the dark without informing Father or myself of your return?”  
**

“I never _skulk_ , and this is rather short notice. There wasn’t time to tell you.” Lust spoke without any particular inflection, calm as ever, as if it had not been so long since their last meeting. Her recent assignments drew her further afield, given her mission in Liore, but whatever time they spent apart when they were together again it seemed like no time at all. Indeed, months or years were but a blink to Homunculi, not enough for him to _miss_ her company.

“The Fullmetal boy got his hands on the location of Dr. Marcoh’s research into the Stone, from Marcoh himself as it turns out, so I’m here to _remedy_ the problem.” A sharp hand flicked towards the smouldering shelves behind them. “He’s pottered off to Resembool, but I’m sure he’s going to come snooping any day now, and I couldn’t exactly look through thousands of books in one night.” She cast him a wry look. “I know _you_ could.”

A smaller shiver. Pride digested the relevant information, the belated re-emergence of their absent Dr. Marcoh and the ever curious Elric boy – their only _confirmed_ Sacrifice – now creeping dangerously into their grand affairs. Not that he could hope to learn anything substantial.

“There’s nothing important here anyway, just lists of names, historical records, court-martials, the like. Nothing compared to _our_ library, either.”

Pride thought of _their_ library, the private collection of literature he and Lust had deemed relevant over the centuries. Most human knowledge was senseless drivel, so the expanse of it had never grown out of its single room, and any alchemic tomes or Xerxian scripture they pored over from Father’s much grander library had always been returned exactly as they were found. Pride thought of it now, barren, drenched in dust, none of his lesser siblings having the sense to actually _use_ it, never mind the knowledge within. He pushed it from his mind.

**“It matters not. Marcoh may have written his research under an alias, or in code either way. You know how humans are.”**

“Right. It would be a waste of both our time.” He watched her settle atop a reading desk, her sigh disrupting the building haze of smoke that poured from every corner of the room, slowly but surely spreading towards the centre. She crossed her legs and glanced over her nails, wiping away some of the lamp oil caught in them in a bookcase, tearing straight through. Practical as ever. Pride shoved the cracked, teetering wood into the pyre, soaking up the burst of light it brought at the touch of the oil. Befitting his construction, his True Form relished the softer natural light of their manufactured flames, rather than the harsh new electric lights of modernity.

**“Dr. Marcoh will be useful as a Potential Sacrifice, and Father will be most pleased when we soon acquire him. I trust you, Envy and Gluttony will be suited to such a mission?”**

Lust deferred to her older brother with a solemn nod.

“And you?” She asked.

Of course, Pride’s place was in every way _here_ , at Father’s side and overseeing all relevant events in the capital. There was no need for him to leave the soon to be heart of the world, really. Not that Wrath’s wife would _dare_ let him leave her sight after tomorrow, entrenched in some overwrought fear of the Main Branch bursting into flames, too. No more outings to the library for a while, then.

 **“The Tunnel is progressing on schedule.”** He said flatly. Already the gnawing of his act tugged in his mind. He wondered if he would ever find a suitable opportunity to visit Father with her clinging to him even more in the coming weeks. **“Soon Sloth will reach the Briggs mountain range, and then we can create further arrangements for the Crest.”**

“Perfect.” His sister shivered despite the heat, no doubt her deep-rooted bloodlust simmering in her mind. Not that he blamed her. “Even the Fullmetal boy’s little meddling didn’t hinder us one bit.”

 **“As if it could.”** He scoffed, spreading thin over the surface of the table, some of his tiny hands flicking. Though, hopefully the boy would keep himself out of harm’s way from now on. At least with him drawn towards Central they could keep a much closer eye on him.

 _Shrrk_. Her lances slid along his near impenetrable darkness, parting it effortlessly. She traced out a familiar shape, its perfect angles, its ten points. “Liore is all settled, too. One to go.” Her nail tapped at the remaining point of the north, leaving a mark in the table and sending fainter ripples skittering through him. Oh, Pride remembered the bloodshed decades before, a different delight they had often shared, that eluded them now. At least she might be able to take her fill in the North soon enough, revelling in the humans’ pathetic struggles, all for Father’s betterment.

They watched the still distant flames, as if huddled beside a fireplace. Only the hissing crackles and snaps of polished wood reached them. Vaguely, Pride’s mind drifted to their erstwhile pretences, the comfortable nights spent reading in front of the hearth of whatever human home they’d concocted. He settled again, enjoying the movement of her fingers weaving through him lazily. A pleasant enough diversion, until the fire grew too fierce and swift to be sensible and she would disappear into the night, returning to her favoured habitat of the shadows. He could sleep, dream of being awake, of aiding Father, and in the morning his act could start anew, cheery, _perfect_ Selim again…

His teeth clattered.

“I’m sure we’re in here quite a bit, you know.”

 **“Hm?”** Pride rumbled deep in his shadow, rising up and arcing over her.

“Our so many fake selves.” She purred.  “Percy, for instance. Do you remember that one?”

Oh, the records of names; their human guises of the previous centuries, stolen or fabricated. It was not unreasonable for a few to have wound up here.

 **“I _do_. And, you, Miss Lucy, the führer’s _good friend._ ” **It seemed Lust saw something similar in the fire. Much better than her _usual_ fare, almost blinding herself before the oven, losing track of time and feeding whatever survived the ‘baking’ to the first one who crossed her path. When had she last been home long enough to do such a thing? He couldn’t remember.

“Richard, Isaac…”

 **“Umbra, dear Miss Selene...”** Pride mused on that particular one, of overcooked rout cakes and of false Mothers too indifferent to care where he snuck off to every night or notice when he indulged in _alcoholic_ syllabub at a military function. No such luck with Wrath’s wife.

“And her _darling_ pupil, snatched away from her side much too soon.” He had been quite glad to end that one early. At least Lust had joined him on those rare occasions, making his seemingly endless façades…enjoyable? Ridiculous.

**“Thea.”**

“and Emmett. All lost now.”

 **“All irrelevant things will be lost in time, until we Homunculi are all that remain in this world.”** Pride’s conceited aura swelled at the exquisite thought, all his eyes shimmering. He glanced towards Lust, and, naturally, that light reflected in hers as well, shining from their depths. He savoured it all the same.

They both lived so deeply in their acts, for the humans, and in their roles as the eldest siblings. The obligations that so often drew them apart also drew them closer, and together again Pride saw _her_ , his sister beneath all her masks, her real self. She saw him, too.

A slow, contented ripple passed through his shadow, so far along his container blinked and shifted, yawning.

The moment passed, as it always did. They’d lingered here too long as it was.

“I will inform Father of this before I return East.” Lust said as she pushed herself up, running her extended lances through her hair, scattering smoke. He caught the minute twitches of _anticipation_ in her fingers, and receded slightly.

This was Lust’s mission, after all.

“Though, perhaps I ought to indulge in some _actual_ reading before sunrise, as well.” She didn’t turn back, but Pride heard the smile in her voice, coy and gleaming in the firelight.

His shadow watched Lust’s wide, graceful strokes as she tore through every shelf, every miserable document. The shreds fell as little more than confetti around her until even they burned in the thick, sooty air. Perfect.

Slowly, ever so slowly Pride eased his split consciousness into his container, yawning a more deliberate yawn and shuffling out beneath his covers. The artificial light of his bedside lamp washed over him as his little shape padded over to the wardrobe. His True Form, retracted to merely a puddle, swirled in something like excitement around his container and deep in his chest, several tendrils already reaching out and plucking only the most suitable clothes for an audience with Father.

Wrath’s wife, oblivious as she was, never need know.

In the morning his game of house could resume, she could worry and fawn as she pleased and clutch _dear Selim_ close to her. But for these precious hours Pride would slip away, bask in the warmth of his true home, and nestle beside his sister in his container, reading together like so long ago.

Good company was in such short supply, after all.


End file.
